Love is a Verb
by Skye Aerrow
Summary: Of all the Aboveground careers he could’ve chosen, he’d apparently picked the least interesting. Reminding himself. He had to.
1. Prologue:: Tennis and Teaching

Skye Says: This is an odd little story I decided to write based off of a dream I had… oO

Disclaimer: Honestly, why would you think that _I_ would be so lucky as to own Labyrinth? Everyone _except_ Sarah and Jareth are mine.

* * *

Prologue- Tennis and Teaching

AUTUMN. LATE OCTOBER.

A small cement tennis court. Three o'clock P.M.

The rhythmic _pong _and _thud_ of tennis balls ricocheting off of the sun-warmed pavement and colliding with well-worn rackets.

A cry of victory as a game point is obtained. The sound of dry leaves scraping across the court.

Dark brown hair. Green eyes. Cruel, cruel eyes.

Her.

* * *

Him, watching from a window. Thinking.

Plotting.

A plan so simple that he was wondering why he hadn't thought of it before.

He wasn't intending on releasing her.

A voice. Silence shattered.

His student. Inquiring something.

Addressing him.

Turning to face her. Taking in her unkempt appearance.

Sighing.

"Sir?"

Shaking his head. It was nothing she should be concerned with. She wouldn't even understand. "Is there something you wanted to ask, Roxanne?"

She was nodding. Puzzled. Trying to remember what she'd wanted.

Realization. Her hand in the air, though she was the only student in the classroom.

Acknowledgement. Amusement, regarding her humanity. "Yes?"

"How do you spell 'Labyrinth'?"

His mind racing. His pulse pounding. Fear.

How did she know?

How _could _she know?

His hands dropping from the windowsill. Clenching into fists at his sides. Strange, for some reason.

Gloves. That was it. He wasn't wearing his leather gloves.

Jumbled thoughts attempting to focus on the question. Answering. Apprehension. "Labyrinth? Oh, L- A- B- Y- R- I- N- T- H."

Roxanne. Jotting it down. Disregarding penmanship completely. "Okay."

His tone clipped. Panic seizing his gut. "Why… why do you ask?"

Cerulean eyes rolling up to meet his. Staring. "You told me that I had to write a paper about it, Mr. King…"

A ghost of a smirk as the assumed name was uttered.

Jareth, the otherworldly Goblin King, reduced to human "Jared King", a high school English teacher. Odd.

Painfully obvious.

Staring back at her. The horror dissipating. Royal arrogance settling into his voice. "Of course."

Roxanne bowing her head over her paper. Saying no more.

Seconds rolling into minutes.

Him. Thinking some more.

Still plotting.

"Mr. King?"

A tap on his shoulder. Reminding him where he was.

Roxanne. Holding out her paper to him. "I, uh, couldn't remember how to spell 'Danae' or 'minotaur', but I didn't want to bother you."

Nodding dumbly. Accepting the paper. Had he gone mute? "You are dismissed- no, hold on. I sha- I _will_ write you a… pass."

Pulling out a small slip of paper. 'ADMIT TO CLASS'. Searching frantically for some wax and his ring. Remembering that he no longer needed to use the royal seal. Foolish.

Those in the Aboveground simply used their names.

Jared King.

A shrill ringing making him jump. His bare hand smearing the signature illegibly. Stifling an Underground curse.

"Don't worry about it," Roxanne saying simply- sympathetically- and gathering up all of her belongings. "I'll just… run to my next class."

Leaving. Sprinting down the hall, true to her word. The door closing behind her.

Mumbling to himself. Grading Roxanne's paper.

Disappointed that she'd taken so long. "So much for having a free period."

* * *

Skye Also Says: Don't get onto me because this is short. It's a _prologue, _for crying out loud.

I lurve you all… whoa, that was random.


	2. Chapter One:: Danger and the Dictionary

Skye Says: I've been so busy lately that I wasn't sure I would actually have this chapter up by the weekend like I said I would, but here it is!

Disclaimer: All standard disclaimers apply.

* * *

Chapter One- Danger and the Dictionary

THE SHRILL RINGING is torturing Jareth's hearing. He can feel a migraine coming on.

His students pouring out of his classroom. Practically fleeing for their lives.

The door closes. Silence settles.

School is out.

Freedom.

Jareth sighing. Walking over to his desk. Changing his mind and walking over to the window.

Staring. Thinking.

Plotting.

After spending a whole day inside the school, he'd been struck by an unsettling notion. An annoyance.

Sarah wasn't in any of his classes.

His fingers drumming out a strange rhythm.

Thinking.

"There must be _something_…"

* * *

A cry of pain echoing across the deserted locker room. Blood dripping from a deep gash.

Horror mingling with the pain. Realization.

She'd need stitches.

"Coach Brumie!" Sarah shouting, biting her lip. Holding back a curse.

A heavyset redhead running out of an office. Not appearing to have ever actually _played _a sport in her lifetime. Muddy eyes drifting down to Sarah's wound. Widening in shock.

Or concern.

Sarah speaking softly. Voice shaking. "I think I need to go to the hospital."

Coach Brumie nodding. Stunned speechless.

Green eyes cast upon her grey gym shirt. Crimson splotches. Wincing. "I can't believe I got my uniform dirty. I just washed it yesterday."

Coach Brumie replying. Finding her voice. "We'll call your mother."

Sarah wincing again. Her _step_mother. Irene. "Uh… that's okay. I'll get a ride with Brittany. She can take me to get stitches."

Nodding dumbly. Patting Sarah on the shoulder. Worry flashing in chocolatey eyes. "Hurry."

* * *

A brunette blur was speeding past the classroom. The blur had green eyes.

Her.

Jareth, fixing his eyes upon the girl. So close… and yet so far.

Reminding himself that it wasn't time yet.

Forcing himself to go back to grading papers. To go back to _anything_ but thinking about her.

So many memories.

"I'll start with the pop quizzes," Jareth mumbling. Talking himself out of his trancelike state. "Most of those children undoubtedly failed."

Cobalt orbs skimming over the papers. Three A's, two B's, and five F's so far.

Boring.

Of all the Aboveground careers he could've chosen, he'd apparently picked the least interesting.

Reminding himself. He _had_ to.

Musing. There was only one thing worse than being a teacher.

He'd had to summon the janitor earlier because one of his wretched mortal students had vomited.

Disgusting.

He didn't envy the janitor.

But he didn't envy really _himself_, either.

* * *

"Jeez, Sarah!" Brittany Ramsey commenting. Shouting, really. "What happened?"

Clenching her wounded hand to her chest. Scowling. "I told you the edge of my gym locker was sharp."

Sympathy. Concern. Brittany studying Sarah intently. "Let me see it."

"No. It's awful," Sarah grunting, face contorted in pain. "Just drive me to Lakeside Memorial."

"The _hospital_?" Incredulity. "It's _that_ bad?"

Sarah nodding. Dizzy from blood loss. "Can we hurry this up a bit?"

Brittany ushering her into the passenger side. White Honda Accord. Spotless.

Sarah leaning back in the seat. Closing her eyes.

Fighting a losing battle with her consciousness.

"I'll break the speed limit. We'll be there in ten minutes, tops. Buckled in? Good. Now, just sit…"

Brittany's voice fading away.

Sarah plunging into blackness. Sinking into blessed oblivion.

She had lost.

* * *

"Love," Jareth, reading aloud from Webster's Dictionary. "Noun. Warm affection; strong attachment."

Blinking. Boredom abating slightly.

What else?

"Goblin," Grinning in amusement. Chuckling. "Noun. A mischievous sprite; an elf."

Frowning. Goblins weren't sprites, nor were they elves. Goblins were just… goblins.

Flipping through pages. Scanning the small print.

"Magic," A prickling sensation flooding his veins. Responding to his voice. Him, cursing.

Humans did _not_ use magic.

"Noun. The art of producing effects by perhuman means; sorcery, enchantment, power."

Jareth smiling at the simplicity of the word in the dictionary. How ignorant these Abovegrounders were! They clearly knew nothing of how truly spellbinding- no pun intended- real magic was. They had no idea that the right incantation could bring an entire empire to its knees.

Laughing. Loudly.

Turning more pages.

"Babe. Noun. Infant; a young child," Recalling the events of several months ago. Grinning. "Toby."

"Labyrinth," Laughing again. Almost uncontrollably. The boredom had vanished completely, thanks to this little publication. "Noun. A place full of intricacies; a maze; an _inexplicable_ _difficulty_!"

Chuckling insanely. Unable to stop.

Apparently, he'd found a new source of entertainment.

* * *

Hours passing as Sarah is stitched up.

Brittany by her side. Waiting patiently.

Finally, free to go.

Climbing into the car once again. Revving up the motor, and starting the long journey home.

Staying within the speed limit this time.

Relaxed silence hanging in the car. Peace.

Brittany speaking. Ruining the tranquility. "That was a nightmare. Good thing it's over."

Sarah clutching her bandaged hand. "I think I'll take you up on that offer to share lockers."

"Good," Brittany replying. Relieved. "I don't want to have to drive you to the hospital again."

"Yeah."

"Hey, I just got a fantastic idea," Eyes on the road. Addressing Sarah. "Why don't you come over and spend the night at my house? We can stay up all night, just talking? It'll be just like old times."

Old times. Before Brittany traded Sarah for a more popular girl.

"No thanks," Sarah mumbling. "I have to baby-sit Toby, anyway."

Brittany frowning. "Again? Man, can't that stepmother of your just watch her own kid?"

"I don't mind that much."

Silence again.

"You've changed." Random. True, though.

"What do you-"

"I mean, a while ago, you _despised_ Toby. Now, you don't?"

Shrugging. Not like she could explain. "No, I guess not."

"It's not a bad thing. You're just really mature."

Changing the subject seeming like a great idea. "What about your schedule this year?"

Brittany pauses. Thinking. "I hate that we don't have any classes except Gym together."

"Me too."

"For Math, I have Mrs. Caldwell, the oldest hag at school, in Science, I have Ms. Worth- she's pretty cool- and- oh! In English, I swear I have the most attractive teach-"

Confusion flitting over Sarah's features. "You find hairy Mr. Kershaw _attractive_?"

Wrinkling her nose in disdain. "Are you kidding me? No, I don't _have_ Mr. Kershaw."

"Then who-"

"The_ new_ male English teacher, Mr. King. The guy who wears his blonde hair in a ponytail? The one whose eyebrows shoot up at a weird angle?"

Sarah shaking her head. The man sounded a little like someone she knew, but whatever. "Never seen him."

"It was so funny, though!" Brittany adding. Enthusiasm in her voice evidence of gossip. "Shannon told me that Mr. King was glaring at Daniel for no-"

"How is Daniel?" Sarah interrupting. She wasn't in the mood for gossip.

"He's fine. You know, next Wednesday is our three-moth anniversary," Brittany replying, looking lovesick. "He's taking me out to a candlelight dinner on the beach…"

"Oh. Sounds… great." Sarcasm. Like Sarah actually cared.

"Sarah, what do you think about, uh… Zachary?" Brittany inquiring. Slyness in her voice.

She was obviously trying to set Sarah up.

Again.

"Not my type," Sarah answering automatically. The Honda was pulling into the Williams's driveway. Slowing to a stop.

Sarah opening the door. Standing outside.

"Well, then… what _is_ your type?"

_Tall, royal, handsome,_ Sarah thinking to herself. A mental image forming of Jareth. _Magical, intoxicating._

Replying to Brittany. Slamming the door. Sighing. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Not that she _was _telling.

* * *

Skye Also Says: Jareth has found solace from Merriam Webster. XD Yes, I am _quite_ odd.

Thanks so much for such great reviews.


	3. Chapter Two: The Meeting and the Magic

**Skye Says:** Thanks endlessly for responding so positively to this story. I shall reward you with this little piece of blissful insanity...

* * *

Chapter Two- The Meeting and the Magic

JARETH HAS NEVER been one to take orders from others. Never, really has he needed to. Underground, he is the one on top. Here? Not so much.

His "supervisor", Principal McDonough, clicking her pen in a rather annoying manner. Giving everyone in the room a twitch. Failing to notice. Failing to care. "Mr. King, I believe you failed to be present at yesterday's faculty meeting?"

Jareth, frowning. The woman, exhibiting a sort of hidden repulsiveness. Him, unable to place it. Odd. "No, I wasn't there." Almost adding why. Changing his mind. They didn't care. Nor did they need to know. "I had private matters to attend to."

The drama teacher, Alexys Stansbury, staring at him. Perhaps… what is the phrase he'd heard his wretched mortal students using… "checking him out". Yes, that was it. The drama teacher. Checking him out.

"Mr. King? I believe you owe us a further explanation." McDonough, staring at him. Definitely _not_ checking him out.

Fighting the urge to curse. Owing her nothing.. "An… explanation?" Feigning ignorance. Nearly killing him. "I'm afraid you will have to elaborate."

Alexys crossing her legs. _Definitely_ checking him out. Possibly wondering whether or not he was… what was the Aboveground term… "single".

Mortimer Shackleton. Health teacher.

His overall importance being zero.

Zero, of course. Except for the fact that he happened to be romantically involved with Alexys Stansbury.

Mortimer, glaring at Jareth. Jealous, no doubt. Wondering, most likely, how it was that a "mortal" could manage to look so appealing.

Trouble brewing.

"What are these… 'private matters' of which you speak?" McDonough asking. "Missing a faculty meeting is a very serious thing."

Trying not to raise his voice. "They are, as I said, private." Seriously restraining himself from smacking the woman. Marveling at her subliminal nastiness. Like the bog, only… _subtly_ vomit-inducing. Puzzling. And disgusting. "I'd rather _not_ disclose them, if you don't mind."

Raising an eyebrow. Refusing to budge. Infuriating Jareth with her audacity. "As your employer, It's my duty to know everything that's going on in your life."

His right eye. Twitching. Gods. He was really starting to wonder if becoming a teacher had been the best way to get to Sarah. There _were_ other jobs. "Alright, then. I suppose I can tell you." His mind whirling. Yesterday. He'd missed the meeting because he'd wanted to figure out where Sarah lived. This venture had proved impossible. He could hardly tell the principal that he'd been too busy stalking a student to attend the meeting.

Stalk. _Verb_. To follow in a predatory manner.

"My Aunt Minerva died." Lying. Blatantly.

Lie. _Noun_. A falsehood; an intentional violation of truth.

Aunt _Minerva_? Was that the best he could come up with?

McDonough appearing troubled by this notion. As if she'd known Aunt Minerva personally. Her presence carrying a hidden grossness. "Oh, you poor dear. I'm sorry to hear that. Well, then, I suppose you're excused."

Jareth glancing over at Alexys. Still staring at him.

Mortimer, looking daggers at Jareth.

Jareth, keeping his eyes on Alexys.

Thinking.

Wishing it were Sarah.

* * *

Sarah Williams rolling over in bed.

Sunny outside. Unbelievably sunny. Unbearably bright.

Sarah, cursing at the sun.

As if that'll do anything.

Reluctantly rising from bed. Yawning.

It's Friday. She should be in school, but today is a teacher workday. None of the students have to be there.

The phone ringing. Screaming at her from its place on the nightstand.

Sarah cursing as she stumbles towards it. Growling into the phone. "Sarah Williams."

"Hey, Sarah. It's me, Zach. You know, Zachary Davies? From school?" Pausing. Nervousness in his voice. Strike that. _Terror_ in his voice. "Listen, I was wondering if you had any plans-"

"How did you get this number?" Angry. She'd really have to have a talk with Brittany.

"Uh… Brittany Ramsey gave it to me."

Swearing quietly. "I can't go out with you, Zachary."

Pressing. Stubborn. "Why not?" Possibly feeling like he'd wasted part of his life.

"Because… because… because I'm seeing someone, okay?" Lying, not that it matters. Rationalizing. She was _mentally_ seeing someone. Mentally because that someone happened to live a world away.

"Really, who?"

Wishing it were possible to slap this guy through the phone. "It's none of you business."

Whining. Like a petulant child. "Why won't you tell me?"

"I _said_, it's none of your-"

"At least tell me what he looks like!"

Scowling. Speaking before she had time to think. "He's tall and has long blonde hair and mismatched eyes." Pausing. "I'm pretty sure he's a few years older than me."

Try a few _millennia._

"Look, I have to go, okay?" Lying again. Not that anyone cared.

Grasping. "Sarah, I just want- I need, that is, I, uh-"

"'Bye, Zachary!" Slamming the phone down. Swearing. Loudly, this time. Crudely.

Toby crying in the next room.

Sarah hating her life.

Sighing.

Whispering the words quietly. Reverently. Almost praying.

"I wish the goblins would come take me away… right now."

Not expecting an answer.

But still getting one.

* * *

Jareth walking home. Humming to himself.

Wishing he knew how to drive. Twenty minutes' walk to his apartment from the school.

Five to ten minutes by car.

Him, leaning down to pick up a dollar bill. Smirking.

For creatures as materialistic as mortals were, they had a peculiar tendency to lose their money.

Suddenly hit by a wave of numbness. His body going cold.

Swearing so loudly and crudely that it was a wonder no one reprimanded him.

Tingling replacing the cold. A pleasant, powerful buzz.

Her voice in his head.

"No." Hissing through gritted teeth. "It is not her."

The buzzing persisting.

Cursing again. Screwing his eyes shut.

Powerless to resist her wish.

"I will go." Jareth saying. "But it cannot possibly be Sarah."

Not knowing how soon he'll be eating his words.

* * *

Doors flying open. A hot wind rushing in.

The beginnings of an essay flying around the room.

A leaf hitting her in the face.

Sarah remembering.

An owl perched on her balcony. Tilting its head at her quizzically. Curiously.

He didn't believe it was her.

"Oh, God…"

The owl hooting softly. Soft white feathers ruffled by the wind.

"Jareth."

The bird gliding into her room and spreading its wings wide. Throwing its head back.

Transforming.

Its fragile body shifting. Rearranging itself.

A male figure. Tall. Royal… handsome…

Magical. Intoxicating-

Sarah swallowing.

Not daring to write this off as anything but a dream.

Things like this only happened in the movies.

Looking at him. Blinking.

"_Hello, Sarah."_

Jareth wearing a dress shirt and dress pants. His hair, blonde. Longer than Sarah had seen it.

Pulled back in a ponytail.

Eyebrows shooting up at a weird angle.

Sarah's eyes widening. Recalling yesterday's conversation with Brittany.

"_For Math, I have Mrs. Caldwell, the oldest hag at school, in Science, I have Ms. Worth- she's pretty cool- and- oh! In English, I swear I have the most attractive teach-"_

"_You find hairy Mr. Kershaw __attractive__?"_

"_Are you kidding me? No, I don't __have__ Mr. Kershaw."_

"_Then who-"_

"_The__ new__ male English teacher, Mr. King. The guy who wears his blonde hair in a ponytail? The one whose eyebrows shoot up at a weird angle?"_

"_Never seen him."_

Putting two and two together.

"Oh my God, Jareth." Walking towards him slowly. As if in a trance.

Lowering her voice.

"Or, should I say… Mr. King…" Reaching out to feel his arm. Reassuring herself that he was there.

That he was real.

Jareth not flinching. Standing there. Letting her next words roll around inside his head.

"Why… God, Jareth, why?" Her voice barely a whisper. Tender. Wistful.

Sounding as if it carried a great deal of emotion. Of longing. Of pain.

Jareth fearing it would break before she finished.

"Why what, pet?" Whispering to match her volume.

Wondering if he sounded at least half as sorry as he felt. Hating seeing her like this.

How was it that he always managed to hurt her?

Biting her lip. Holding back tears.

Jareth marveling at this.

Sarah replying slowly. Her voice ragged and torn. So full of pain.

Killing Jareth.

"Why didn't you tell me you were here…? Why didn't you come after me? Why-" Running out of breath. Having to inhale deeply before continuing. "Why didn't you talk to me until now?"

Jareth feeling as if she'd punched him.

Not saying anything.

Unable to.

"I mean… we… we're at the same school, right?" Sniffing. Blinking hard. "I think you're class is across the hall from Mr. Kershaw's. You… you could've… _God_, Jareth! You could have _shouted_ _at me_! You could have _grabbed my wrist and dragged me over there!_" Sadness exchanged for fury. Cruel, cruel eyes hardening as they lingered on his face. "You could've done _something_, for Christ's sake!" Sarah crying now. Hard, angry sobs. Racking her body. Shuddering violently. "I-I thought you… you said- you said that you would give me my freaking _dreams_! You told me that you _loved_ me! And I- I-"

"You _rejected_ me." His tone clipped. Cold.

The truth stabbing her.

Sniffing again. Looking up at him sadly.

Her voice like that of a mouse.

Tugging at Jareth's heart.

"Jareth… I'm sorry." Touching his cheek. "Now, I think I- no, I know I… well, the truth is…_I love you_."

All he needed to hear.

Letting her fall limp against his chest. His arms automatically going around her. Pulling her close.

Wishing for this moment to last an eternity.

Smiling.

"I was hoping you would say that."

* * *

**Skye Also Says:** I get out of school in, like, five days. No telling when chapter three will be up, but I plan on finishing this story by the time school starts back up in the fall.

Thanks again for all of your reviews. D


	4. Chapter Three: Love Is A Verb

**Skye Says:** This is it, guys.

The end comes at the conclusion of this chapter.

Thanks for hanging in there for so long.

* * *

Chapter Three- Love is a Verb

NO MORE THAN two minutes pass. Jareth fulfills his duty as Goblin King. Sarah is taken away.

But this time, he selects a _different_ location.

Sarah, sitting beside him on the couch. In his apartment.

Jareth, marveling at this turn of events. Marveling at her.

Marveling at life.

Seconds passing. Ticking into minutes. Silence.

"Now what?" Sarah asking, leaning against his side.

Jareth, putting his arm around her.

"Jareth." Her voice sharp. Annoyed.

Jareth grunting.

"You haven't said a thing since you spirited me off." Her arm sliding around his waist. "Don't tell me you're regretting your decision."

Jareth, stifling a laugh at her suggestion. Regret? Ridiculous. He regretted nothing.

Including his decision to bring her here.

"Not at all, Sarah."

Pouting. Tilting her head at him. "Why are you suddenly so... distant?"

Distance? Hm. They were as close as any two people could be physically.

Any closer, and she'd be in his lap.

Or... his bed.

Jareth inclining his head slightly. Reaching out to brush her cheek. Frowning. "I just... I'm not entirely sure about what I thought I heard you say back at your house."

Wanting, more than anything, for what he _thought_ he'd heard to be fact. To be reality. Wanting, more than anything, to hear her say those words again.

Sarah resting her head on his broad shoulder. Trusting him.

For now.

And, hopefully, forever.

Not long at all.

"Well... what do you _think _I said?" Her words careful. Selected. Hand-picked.

Jareth, staring at her. Unable to answer right away. Unable to do _anything_ but look at her.

Unable to believe that she was here.

With him.

Right now.

"I... I _thought_," Jareth coughing. Clearing his throat. The words pressing at his larynx. Difficult to voice. "I thought I heard you say that you... er, loved me."

Sarah staring back at him with unparalleled intensity. A smile slowly turning the corners of her lips. Lowering her voice. "I said... I _loved _you?" Batting her eyelashes. Feigning ignorance.

Driving Jareth nearly over the edge.

"Yes." Hissing through suddenly gritted teeth. Clenching the sofa's armrest. Death grip. "You did." A trace of doubt lingering in his voice. Barely convincing himself.

Swearing internally.

Wasn't she aware of what she did to him?

"I did, didn't I?" A hint of awe in her voice. Surprise, wonder, and something else.

Joy.

Jareth, staring at her again. Astounded. Utterly and completely spellbound. Madly, truly, deeply in love. In love with a woman. In love with a mortal. In love with a child.

Never wanting to be away from her.

Knowing he never would be.

"Sarah," Him, saying after nearly an eternity had a passed. "Marry me."

Sarah beaming up at him. Wide-eyed. Cheeks flushing.

Radiant. Ethereal.

His, all his.

Leaning closer to him. Lifting her chin. Her lips an instant from his.

"Jeez, Goblin King. I was wondering how long it was going to take you." Eyelids slowly shutting. "It's not like I asked you to move the stars or anything..."

Jareth, taking her in his arms and finally kissing her full on the mouth. Enjoying every minute of it. Extraordinarily pleased. Blissful. _Jubilant_.

Knowing, in that moment, that Merriam Webster was a liar.

_Love_. Not a noun. Not something that simply waited around for you until you found it.

_Love_. An active being. Pursuing, hiding, teasing.

Pouncing.

Obviously _not_ a noun.

Jareth, breaking the kiss. Reluctant. "Sarah, do you happen to know a Mr. Webster?"

Sarah, puzzling at this. Her brow furrowing. "No. Why do you ask?"

"It's just... his dictionary proclaims that _love_ is a noun, but it _isn't_ a noun. It can't _possibly_ be a noun."

Kissing her again. Unable to help himself.

"_Love..."_ is a _verb."_

Sarah surrendering to him completely. Her heart melting. Her will breaking.

Both of them knowing he was right.

* * *

**Skye Also Says**: Like Jareth, I was also a bit confused to find that the word "love" is _never_ mentioned in the dictionary as anything but a noun- an odd thing, considering the fact that it is, indeed, an action as well.

I firmly believe that Merriam Webster was either lying or ignorant to this fact.

Either that, or Jareth the Goblin King knows more about mortal emotions than mortals do themselves.

Anyway, I do hope you enjoyed this story. As always, your feedback is greatly appreciated.


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